


Red Penumbra

by Hinus



Category: SMITE (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Character Death, Fingering, M/M, Masochism, Mild Gore, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn With Plot, Power Imbalance, Sadism, Semi-Necrophilia, breath play, gore porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 01:24:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinus/pseuds/Hinus
Summary: The Lord of Darkness, Chernobog discovers a timeline with a very, very aggressive and revenge fueled Achilles. He watches him destroy the realm of the gods in the name of Patroclus, all from the shadows. Then, on the final hour of of Achilles' life, he decides to have some....fun.((Please do not read if you are sensitive to any of the mentioned topics))





	Red Penumbra

**Author's Note:**

> The spite-themed timeline of Achilles is based on the idea that he was revived by Hades to enact his revenge (The Revenant skin!).
> 
> I merely got curious of the pairing (with that skin specifically in mind) because of the crystal aesthetics :)c.  
> Another big thank you to @mellowminty for helping me revise this a bit!

A familiar scent, a feeling, a pitch dark sense of emotion only very few know by name. Fierce, unwavering rage and wrath brought upon one’s own failure, no event no more delicious to the tongue of a lord. How joyously delirious one can be, drifting to a time so filled with discourse so sweet, and thick like honeyed ambrosia.   
  
It was like a dream written just for him, gods sullied by their own mistake and brought to the ground in pools of warm blood, chilled by spite. Oh, how good it tastes, to watch from the shadows, to watch such a seductive yet mysterious figure impale and thrash without prejudice. A guilty pleasure, one that could make even Hades' blood curdle from the mere concept of how deeply it pleasures him.

 

Chernobog, born from the recesses of darkness and most tainted of nightmares. He who feels life flow through his cold icy veins as gods and mortals alike meet their fate. Though it be in a world not of his own, he watches with loving intent over the one who’s blessed his accursed eyes with such irredeemable ecstasy.

 

He spreads his wings in the shadows, following from a distance, licking his lips, curious to know who or what is this beast’s next victim. The skies dark and sullied, with no gods left to fill it with light, the earth around them wilting and crumbling to dust after each footstep. The silent scrape of a bloodied spear being dragged cross the jagged rock landscape, a shrill yet thrilling sound.    
  


An early, deserved ragnarok, brought by one from another patheon, fueled by spite instead of foretold fate. How many more times must one say, how utterly beautiful a site it is? The only grievance being it hadn’t been Chernobog to orchestrate with his own jagged, crimson claws. 

 

He didn’t have a moment to wander closer in his hidden form, before the white, silk haired beast stopped in his tracks to turn his head.

 

“How long have you been following, me?” His voice was heavy in accent, yet smooth all the same.

 

Chernobog said nothing, and instead unveiled himself from the dark, stretching his wings and craning his neck. The man flinched, squinting at Chernobog, as if he’s never seen a being like him.  
  
“You do not scare me, foul monster.” He spoke again, his gaze darting around Chernobog curiously, “State your business.”  
  
The man turned his shoulder to Chernobog, yet not hesitating to point his spear at his throat. His eyes were empty, his skin a porcelain and clear white, cheeks sunken in. Air caught in Chernobog’s throat, taken aback by the quick movement, but huffed, unamused, and grasped the spear in his red palm. 

 

He wrapped his talons around the shaft, encasing it in crimson crystals without exerting an ounce of energy. He frowned further as he clenched his fist, and shattered the top portion of the spear, falling apart like sand. Achilles gasped subtly, dropping the shattered weapon in shock, it now only a flimsy stick.

 

“What is your name?” Chernobog spoke, flexing his claws in pride, his own voice a deep gravelly tone akin to bellows from hell.

 

“Achilles.” He spoke with his teeth clenched, backing away from Chernobog, “Why have you been watching me? State your business.”

 

Chernobog blinked slowly, still examining Achilles’ body. Compared to the first time he laid eyes upon his skin, it’s become adorned in scattered scars and bruises that won’t heal. Even the black ivory crown he wore upon his silky hair long ago broke, his sparse armor and shield all bygone accessories in his path of rage. Even his scarf was left in tatters, the fabric color sullied by blood and dirt.

 

But what caught his eye was a bright, pulsing purple crystal in place of where a mortal’s heart would nest. He clenched his jaws together, folding his wings to his back, and looked Achilles in his dead eyes.  
  
“I’ve simply been amused by your activities,” He approached Achilles, grabbing his shoulder with his claws, piercing tiny pin pricks into the skin, “What you’ve done brings great pleasure to me. Such a sour scowl and bite you possess, too.”

 

The wounds he pushed into the smooth skin drew no blood, the surface simply dulling and pruning like a corpse. Achilles held no reaction to this either, which drove his curiosity forward.

 

“Do you not wish to fight? You seemed so ready, barely a moment ago with your spear at my throat,” He held back a smirk as Achilles growled at him, like a cornered animal, “Have you no teeth to bare, anymore?”

 

“As far as I can tell, you had done no wrong to me.” Achilles’ glare cut into Chernobog’s  composure like a glacier, “So I saw no purpose in slaughtering you.”

 

Even so, Chernobog’s eyes were drawn back to the purple stone, tucked so tightly betwixt Achilles’ pecs, beneath his skin and held in place by throbbing black veins. Achilles turned his body away from Chernobog, drawing his arms up defensively.

 

“What is it you wish to do with me?” Achilles grit his teeth together, “I have no business left in this world, anyways. I’ve drawn the blood Patroclus deserved.”

 

Chernobog forcibly turned Achilles back around, his eyes still wandering the flesh that captivated him so. He traced his claw through the skin, drawing faint lines in a single pattern. Achilles only then flinched as his nails trickled closer to the black veins, making Chernobog grin in his piqued curiosity.

 

“If you have nothing left to do, why not indulge in a lord equal in spite?” He hesitated to let the corner of his mouth twitch to show part of his teeth, as a sort of genuine smile, “This world’s lifespan is ticking down, all due to you. Wonderful work, darling.”

 

“Do not touch me, beast.”  Achilles face contorted in slight disgust, attempting to move away from Chernobog, but was held in place by his talons. 

 

He reacted quickly in retort, grabbing Chernobog’s wrist, using all his strength to try and push him away, but was met with red spikes through his hand. He recoiled and looked to Chernobog with a concerned stare, swallowing harshly and hesitant to speak. He ripped the stones out of his hand, his body letting no blood, his greyed flesh and muscle exposed.

 

He may of brought death and havoc upon the gods of this world, but without his spear, and his fading strength, he was becoming nothing more than another reanimated corpse.

 

“Huh. Then, tell me, why is it you cower when I touch your….hm..” Chernobog rose crystals from the jagged rocks of the earth around them, binding Achilles’ feet to the ground, “What should I call this, actually?”

 

Chernobog grasped the edges of the stone with the tips of his claws, the sudden aura of warmth he felt sending chills through his body. Achilles yelped as the fingers dipped through the flesh, a black oily substance leaking from the veins as Chernobog forced his grasp deeper upon the stone. He furrowed his brows in ponder, clicking his tongue in thought.

 

“Your heart? Your soul?” Chernobog admired the powerful shine emitting from the stone, “Ah, you’re getting quiet on me.”

 

The further Chernobog pushed his fingers in, and pulled the stone from his chest, the more the blazing glow of Achilles’ empty eyes began to fade, and his breath halted. Chernobog sighed in disappointment; such a powerful foe thwarted by a simple well placed grasp?

 

He examined the stone again as he pulled it out further, the oozing veins coiling and connecting to the tipped end of the stone that laid tucked inside Achilles, a beautiful gradient of purple to black. He admired it only for a few more seconds before he shoved it back into Achilles, listening to the sharp, terrified gasp that came from the walking corpse as life flowed back into him.

 

“How lovely. Fear suits you well.” Chernobog chuckled faintly as Achilles struggled to regain control of the parts of his body, drool dripping from his lips as he breathes erratically.

 

They sat in silence, Achilles struggled to regain his composure, not even able to speak as he focused on just breathing. But it was short lived, for Chernobog yanked the gem out again as he noticed his breathing stabilize. He watched in curiosity, impressed how Achilles’ eyes fluttered and twitched as the connection faded between his body and soul. He again waited a few seconds before twisting it back in, Achilles once again gasped and struggled once more, tears beginning to flow from his eyes. 

 

Even with his lack of pupils, Chernobog could tell he was looking at him.

 

“What a beautiful face of fright.” Chernobog craned his neck again, examining more of Achilles body, his gaze carving through the curves of flesh like knives.

 

He then very, very slowly pulled the crystal out, causing Achilles to spasm and choke on his own spit, struggling to raise his arms to stop Chernobog. His legs shook as he fell backward, being caught by Chernobog’s quick wing.

 

“Why won’t you fight back, dear Achilles?” He gently tucked the gem back in, adjusting his position so he stood behind Achilles, supporting his partially limp body, “I’’m not having much pleasure, having you like putty in my arms. Have you no fight left, already?”

 

He waited a minute or so, tracing the outline of the gem with his claw as he waited for a response. It was odd holding another living creature, one without a heartbeat. Even for the lord born of the perturbed existence that is the darkness, it was strange.

 

“Answer me.” He absent mindedly moved his red hands to Achilles’ hair, examining the texture with the soft parts of his hand.

 

“I …. H-have nothing t-to lose.” His face was absolutely covered in tears and spit, unable to control it anymore, “Just kill me, if that’s what you’re after.”

 

“Do not assume what my intentions are, frail one.” He spoke with no emotion behind his voice, still curiously playing with Achilles’ hair, “Do tell me though, what does this feel like?”

 

He quickly moved his other hand to pull on the gem, tilting his head like a puppy as he waited for the same pattern again. The loss of bodily control, the gasping, the spasms--then silence. He counted the seconds until he tucked it neatly back in, the pattern changing to spasms and gasping, to choked heavy breaths.

 

“Tell me, or I’ll--”

 

“Good.”

 

“Ah...e-excuse me?” Chernobog yanked on the piece of hair he held so gently before, and his wings twitched, “What?”

 

“Don’t get me wrong, it is painful. You are y-yanking out my very soul.” Achilles laughed behind his pain-filled tears, “But it feels nice to feel pain after being numb. I’ve been deprived of sensation for so long to all the pain since my resurrection. It's a bittersweet pleasure.”

 

Chernobog clenched his jaw, his body tensing up in nervousness. That….wasn’t the response he was expecting, honestly. But he wouldn’t let that disrupt his composure, so he continued his devious ministrations. Achilles’ body eventually completely gave out, putting all of his dead weight onto Chernobog. He sighed and lowered their bodies to the ground, sitting crossed legged, Achilles’ body resting in his lap.

 

The warmth of the jewel as it rested in his palm was near hypnotizing, serving as a reminder of how cold his own demonic flesh is. He rubbed the uneven surfaces, entranced by the glimmering. He waited longer this time, staring blankly into Achilles’ white eyes as his body lost it’s only semblance of life, the body stilling completely. 

 

Holding the gem in one hand, he used his other to cup Achilles’ face, inspecting the texture. It was smooth like his silken hair, it was pleasing yet, somehow it bothered him. He sighed, and forced the gem back into place, Achilles reacting much more violently after the longer period between living and death, his body being pulled to life again. His spine curved upwards, coughing violently, his previously dry face now soaked with more streams of tears and spit. His drool dribbled from his chin to his throat, unable to breath for awhile before he could get a grasp again, his head slamming against Chernobog’s stomach with each violent cough.

 

Chernobog felt his stomach twist as Achilles pushed his body against his lap, barely able to keep his eyes open. Then, a different idea came to Chernobog’s mind. He flexed his wings to ease his own anxiety and excitement, hands struggling to stay stable.

 

Instead of pulling the gem out, he dug his fingers into the tight crevasses between Achilles’ skin and the gem where the black slick resided. Achilles whined, hesitant to push Chernobog's hand away, but there wouldn’t be a point.

 

“Does this feel any different?” Chernobog pulled his fingers away, examining the goo that now coated his fingers. 

“I-it hurts more...” Achilles forced his eyes shut, hot spikes of pain pulsed through his veins, “Do it again...p-please...”

 

Chernobog swallowed dryly, shaky fingers moving back down to Achilles’ chest. He could feel his own heart tense as Achilles hissed as his claws crept back into his chest cavity, this time thrusting his fingers back and forth as a test.

 

“Like this?” Chernobog suppressed a smirk.

 

Achilles’ suppressed a howl of pain, his fists balling, legs kicking up, tears continuing to flow. His lips quivered, he wanted to ask the demon to stop, but his deprived desires kept him quiet. His vision became blurry each time a claw touched a vein too harshly, Chernobog’s pale skin blending into the greys of the sky above them. 

 

But what caused him to truly scream, in true unadulterated pain, was when Chernobog dug his claws into him as deep as they could go, the black ooze of his veins gushing out from his chest. He tried to speak, to ask why the demon did that, he sputtered the black liquid from his lips. His throat stung, and his vision began to fade to black in mere seconds.

 

“It seems your time is coming to an end, my dear.” Chernobog frowned, and rubbed the side of Achilles’ face as he cried out, “Don’t worry.”

 

He leaned into Achilles’ tear soaked face, and gave him a simple, chaste kiss on the lips, the black goo sticking to his skin. He licked it off, and dug his fingers in deep one last time, Achilles belting out a blood curdling scream, then ripping the gem out in one harsh motion, severing the veins.

 

Achilles looked to Chernobog, his eyes lidded, as if he had expected mercy. The ooze on his lips tasted of sour liquor, a drab result on comparison to the beautiful honey that was Achilles’ rampage. Chernobog watched as he took one final huff of air, and became the corpse he used to be. 

 

He then took one final look at the gem in his hand, still warm yet fading, and shattered it in his palm. He sighed, pushing the body out of his lap, standing at his full height once more. He could feel his heart sting with pity, but it was too late.

 

He stretched his wings, and sunk back into the shadows. Surely, he will find a new plaything in due time.


End file.
